The little Boy

Somewhere in Somerset where wild yellow and white flowers blossom in the tall grass, that is growing shoulder height to an eight year old boy with short brown hair running through the meadow by the side of his lifetime friend, a golden retriever with the most splendid shiny fur, both of them running at a pace as if in a long and arduous race.

 Stone lay everywhere in that meadow, good purpose stone for building walls surrounding the lovely picturesque farms of nearby hills, on they ran with the wind whispering around the boys ears, the long grass dampening all sounds of sheep baaing in the next meadow and the boys proud and beautiful mother calling him for tea, today was shepherds pie with a gorgeous onion gravy and creamy mashed potato with peas, ready and waiting on the strong pine country table within an artistic built Cotswold stone cottage.

The cottage Strongly raised with the rocks that lay scattered about the wonderfully pictured meadow, the rocks this well behaved loving boy had not noticed underfoot when he tripped and fell, rocks the handsome boy had hit his head on, rocks that caused him to lay still, blood pouring from the deep cut on his forehead, the golden retriever continued on running at first, unaware the boy had fallen, then in an instant as if feeling the presence of the boy no more, he span around, running to where the boy lay, he began licking the boy on his sweet sleeping, yet silent face. 

The boy did not move, the dog began for home, he ran and ran until he reached where the boys mother waited, the golden retriever barked and yelped continuously until the boys mother had realised something was wrong, the mother ran after the loving dog, anxiously concerned for her son, when she arrived at where he lay, the desperately forlorn mother waited with her little boy, she called the emergency services, they were on the way. On arrival in no time at all, airlifting the boy to a place where all help could be given if possible. If possible are the only words I now have.

From that moment, everyday the meadow lay quiet with a slight breeze blowing across the long grass with beautiful yellow and white flowers, they were holding a secret unknown to anyone except the brave golden retriever that frequented the meadow running around feeling the joy of living, everyday he play where the little boy lay, the meadow whispering 'please come another day'.